


First Impression

by elaine



Series: Sentinel and Harper [6]
Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey, The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, M/M, Sentinel/Guide Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-21
Updated: 2012-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-29 21:34:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elaine/pseuds/elaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Blair attend a Hatching, with some surprising results.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Impression

The sun had barely risen but was already bringing warmth to the stone of Sweetheart’s ledge, and to J’mellison’s skin through his shirt. Not even the drudges had stirred yet, and he smiled to himself, enjoying the peacefulness of early morning. He picked up another piece of Sweetheart’s harness and began to rub it lightly with an oily cloth, inspecting it for any sign of wear or damage.

Something had woken him in the grey pre-dawn light and he’d slipped out of bed, leaving Blair to sleep undisturbed, curled beneath the covers. But there’d been nothing out of place, no sign of danger, nothing but the quiet breathing of sleeping people and dragons and the occasional sounds of early morning lovemaking. Even Sweetheart had barely roused enough to rumble a greeting before sinking back into a doze.

A sudden tingling sensation sent shivers through J’mellison’s body and he gasped. Sweetheart opened an eye, blinking sleepily for a moment before his head lifted and he made a faint humming sound. Around the weyr, other dragons were rousing, starting to hum softly. The sound grew, spread from ledge to ledge, as J’mellison leapt to his feet and raced into the chamber he shared with Blair.

Only the top of Blair’s head showed above the covers. Without compunction, J’mellison grabbed his shoulder and shook it hard. “Wake up sluggard, the eggs are about to hatch.”

“Go ‘way…” Blair mumbled, and tried to snuggle deeper.

J’mellison grinned and pulled the covers entirely off his lover. “Come on. If you want a good seat, you’ll need to get moving. Get dressed and I’ll fetch you some klah.”

“Hatching?” Blair sat up, knuckling his eyes and J’mellison didn’t wait for more. He hurried down to the kitchens, intent on his mission.

By the time he returned to the sleeping chamber Blair was almost fully dressed, lacking only his boots. He passed over the mug, waiting impatiently for Blair to swallow half of it in one long gulp. “Awake now?”

“Close enough.” Blair threw him a grin and reached out for the other mug.

J’mellison backed out of his range. “Boots first. You can drink it when we get down to the hatching grounds.”

“It’ll be half cold by then,” Blair grumbled, but he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on his soft leather boots.

***

The stands were just starting to fill up when Sweetheart dropped J’mellison and Blair on the edge of the grounds, and they easily found a place on the second tier of benches – the first tier being reserved for visiting dignitaries and the Weyrleader and Weyrwoman.

There was a quiet air of excitement and expectation as murmurs rippled through the assembled riders and onlookers. J’mellison leaned into Blair’s side, sliding his arm around the slim waist, remembering his own Impression, when he’d been among the candidates with his father’s most reluctant assent. Given, J’mellison was sure, only because his father never imagined for a moment his eldest son would Impress.

It had been the best day of his life, the day he’d found a life-long companion who would accept him with all his failings. The day he’d finally made his escape from his father’s disappointment and disapproval. Of course his father still disapproved, but it no longer mattered, since J‘mellison wasn’t there to see it. He smiled and brushed a kiss across Blair’s temple. Joining with Blair had been the other best day of his life, providing the second piece of the puzzle that made him complete.

“Love you,” Blair whispered, smiling sideways at him. He laid his hand lightly on J’mellison’s thigh, just above his knee, and squeezed gently. Then his attention was gone as another chattering group of holders squeezed their way past them, heading for the fourth tier as the seats rapidly filled. J’mellison knew he’d be watching their behaviour with an academic eye – looking for patterns, for clues in their interactions that would indicate their status, their shifting allegiances. He might be no more than adequate as a singer or composer, but he was a keen student of people, and that was what had attracted him to the Harper Hall in the first instance.

The air of excitement intensified as white-robed candidates filed onto the hatching ground. Some of them were very young and looked impossibly nervous. Others were looking around, holding themselves proudly. They trailed around the edges of the hot sand, forming a loose circle. As if stimulated by their presence, some of the eggs began to rock gently. The humming of the dragons, watching from the top of the weyr, or from their ledges if they were Benden born, increased in volume and pitch.

Most of the eggs were rocking now. J’mellison knew that all of them were viable – one of his duties as a sentinel was to check the eggs’ development, and any that were showing no signs of life developing within were quietly removed from the hatching grounds weeks before the rest were ready to hatch.

A loud crack heralded the imminent hatching of the first dragon. J’mellison located the egg, vibrating under the efforts of the hatchling to escape its prison. A long crack split the shell almost in two and the crowd gasped. Blair leaned forward eagerly, mere people forgotten in the magical first moments of a dragon’s life.

The crack widened and a green tumbled out, its head wobbling uncertainly on its neck.  J’mellison saw the ripple of tension spread through the candidates as the hatchling staggered towards them. Then a young boy, barely ten Turns, J’mellison thought, stepped forward, his face alight with wonder. “She says her name is Rhondath.”

A murmur ran through the crowd, and a soft spatter of applause. The boy was moving forward to kneel at his dragon’s side, but already another hatchling was breaking free, and the crowd’s attention was diverted.

Egg after egg began to rock, cracking open to release the hatchlings, but J’mellison’s attention was now firmly fixed on the golden egg that held the only Queen of the clutch. Every Queen was precious, with a constant need for more dragons as Thread continued its devastating attack on Pern.

More than half of the eggs had hatched and the rest were rocking and showing cracks by the time the golden egg broke apart to reveal the little gold hatchling. She staggered, shaking damp, underdeveloped wings and took a step towards the cluster of female candidates, one of whom burst into tears. Others shuffled their feet, or squared their shoulders; a couple stepped forward hopefully. The little Queen managed a couple of unsteady steps then halted, head swaying uncertainly. She made no attempt to approach any of the candidates, and a murmur of unease spread through the assembled audience.

“J’m?” Blair’s hand tightened on J’mellison’s thigh.

“Doesn’t look good.” He answered the concern Blair hadn’t expressed aloud. “They’ll send out for other candidates if none of these Impress. I’d better get ready.” He left then, not waiting to see the result as the candidates, urged by the Weyrling Master, went up to the hatchling one by one. Somehow, he knew they weren’t going to be accepted.

***

By dusk, J’mellison and the other riders – from Benden and beyond – had scoured every Hold, Hall and Weyr for female candidates. None had succeeded in Impressing the little queen. The audience had departed, murmuring of bad omens, and the candidates who had Impressed had long since escorted their hatchlings away to be fed and washed and rested. Only the golden hatchling remained, sprawling in an ungainly heap, too weak now to do more than lift her head and chirp disconsolately.

Only Blair still sat in the stands, watching. J’mellison joined him there, dropping onto the bench with a tired sigh. “That’s it. She won’t last the night, and if there’s a single suitable woman in the whole of Pern who hasn’t tried to Impress her, then I don’t know who she is.”

“Can’t anything be done?’ Blair looked pleadingly at him. “If she’d eat, she’d last a little longer, and maybe we can find someone.”

J’mellison shook his head. “She’ll only feed from her rider’s hands.”

“It’s worth a try.” Blair set his lips into a stubborn line. “We can’t afford to let a Queen die. Think of all the babies she’ll give us.”

“You’d be wasting your time.” But Blair was already heading down into the hatching ground. J’mellison sighed, shrugged and followed.

There was a bucket full of gobbets of meat sitting on the edge of the ground. J’mellison wrinkled his nose in disgust and caught Blair’s arm as he reached for it. “She won’t eat that. It’s been in the heat too long.”

Blair simply looked at him expectantly and J’mellison sighed. “All right… Sweetheart, can you kill a nice small herd beast?”

_But I’m too tired to eat._

“It’s not for you, scramble-brain, Blair’s chasing moonbeams again. Just bring us a small, tender one for the little Queen.” He waited for Sweetheart’s grumble of assent before following Blair onto the warm sands.

Blair had already dropped down to sit cross-legged on the sand beside the hatchling. She regarded him warily, her eyes dull.

“Hey there, sweetling, are you waiting for your rider to come?” He scratched behind her eye ridge and she made a faint warbling sound. “Don’t worry. We’ll find someone for you tomorrow.” His fingers stroked down her muzzle and back up in a gentle caress. “Sweetheart’s going to bring you some nice, juicy meat. You need to keep up your strength for tomorrow, so you can Impress your rider.”

J’mellison stood a cautious distance away, not wanting to spook the hatchling. He knew Blair was going to take it hard when the little Queen didn’t make it, but there was no point in trying to stop him when he set out on one of his rescues. He was distracted by the soaring sensation as Sweetheart rose, then swooped for the kill, and when he looked back, the hatchling had lifted her head and was resting it on Blair’s thigh.

Blair looked up at him, his eyes shining. “J’m, she says her name is Meganth.”

***

“It’s ridiculous,” T’ggart, Joelth’s rider and Weyleader of Igen Weyr grumbled. “Queens don’t Impress male riders.”

T’gessian interrupted angrily. “It’s  _impossible_  is what it is. The harper’s a fraud, a charlatan.”

J’mellison held his silence with difficulty. He had expected that the Benden riders wouldn’t be happy about Blair Impressing the hatchling Queen, but he hadn’t anticipated that all the other dragon riders of Pern would want to stick their noses into what was, after all, Benden’s business. Most of all, it really rankled that T'gessian, who knew Blair better than any of the others, would be so ready to believe Blair a fraud.

It wasn't only the Weyrleaders and Weyrwomen who had become involved – Craft Master Rossan and Benden’s Healer, Laurinen were part of the meeting too. Meganth was under the care of the Weyrling Master and Blair had been forbidden to go anywhere near her. It wasn’t safe for a newly hatched dragon and her rider to be separated like that and they’d already spent the night apart – a night Blair had passed pacing the confines of their sleeping chamber while J’mellison had tried, and failed, to reassure him.

“Don’t you think you should speak to him yourself before you make such a judgement?” Rossan lifted his hands placatingly. “I’ve known Blair since he was a boy and, with the exception of the occasional ‘romantic obfuscation’ he’d employ with the womenfolk, I’ve never known a more truthful lad. He knows as well as any harper the seriousness of what’s happened.”

Ignoring, for the moment, the renewed shouting, J’mellison thought back to the previous evening, watching Blair feeding small gobbets of meat to Meganth, coaxing her at first, then snatching his fingers away once she’d recovered her appetite.

“Hey… hey, have a care for my fingers, sweetling.” His tone had been indulgent, but he’d immediately followed with a reassuring “no, no, you didn’t hurt me. It’s all right. I know you’re hungry.” He’d continued feeding the little Queen, oblivious to the growing confusion as dragons passed the news to their incredulous riders. The arrival of a disbelieving and incensed T’gessian had put an end to that. Meganth had been carried away over Blair’s furious protests. J’mellison had had to physically restrain him, and only his promise, with Sweetheart’s full agreement, to do everything in his power to reunite the two of them had managed to convince Blair to reluctantly acquiesce in the separation.

He hadn’t imagined it was going to be so difficult to convince the Weyr to accept the situation; but matters hadn’t been helped by the arrival of all the Weyrleaders, and Weyrwomen from four of the other five Weyrs. Only Caro, Samanth’s rider from Ista, who was pregnant and couldn’t fly  _between_ , had not come to Benden to protest.

As the shouting abated somewhat, J’mellison spoke loudly, cutting across the raised voices of Rossan and P’grast, Weyrleader of Telgar. “Do we really want to set a precedent for the Weyr – for  _anyone_  – to part a dragon and its rider?”

It silenced everyone for a moment, but then P’grast rallied. “Of course not. But this is nonsense, Queens don’t Impress–“

“She gave Blair her name. She’s fed from his hand.” J’mellison glared around the Council Room, and there were many who wouldn’t meet his eyes. “If that isn’t Impression, I don’t know what you’d call it.”

“Maybe it’s some kind of trick,” offered T’gessian, although his voice was beginning to lack conviction.

“Well, then, let’s hear from those most concerned.” Master Rossan suggested. “Blair and… and Meganth.”

There was some grumbling at Rossan’s use of the little Queen’s name, since many of them believed Blair had lied, but the Weyrleaders all nodded their assent. D’ryl, the youngest of the riders present, was sent to fetch Blair.

Moments later the doors opened again and Blair strode in, his head held high and a pugnacious expression on his face. Gradually, the angry voices fell silent until J’mellison could have heard a feather drop to the stone floor as those present took in Blair’s changed appearance. Somehow Blair had managed to beg, steal, or borrow a complete rider’s outfit to replace his usually colourful clothing. He’d tied his hair back from his face, giving him an older and more serious appearance. He  _looked_  like a dragon rider.

He looked…  _shards_ … J’mellison had to force himself to remain still. He wanted to go over to Blair, to bury his face in the curve of Blair’s exposed throat, to plunge his hand down into those wherhide pants and stroke Blair to shuddering orgasm.

Yeah, that would really crack the shells of everyone here. He bit his lip to stop himself from laughing aloud; this really wasn’t the time or place.

But the impulse to laugh faded fast as Blair took his stand before the Council table. He looked tired and worn, with shadows under his eyes and his usual good-humoured expression entirely absent. Blair’s eyes scanned the assembled dragon folk, trying to establish contact with each in turn, though several refused to meet his gaze. Blair’s lips tightened angrily, but he held his temper in check.

Gradually, all eyes turned to T’gessian who, as Weyrleader of Benden, was expected to lead the way. He cleared his throat loudly, avoiding looking directly at either Blair or J’mellison. “This Council has been called to consider the claim by Master Blair of the Harper’s Hall that he has Impressed the hatchling Queen.”

“Her  _name_  is Meganth.” Blair’s chin rose defiantly. “Ask your dragons – they’ll confirm it.”

An angry mutter rose from several of the riders and K’ncaid of High Reaches Weyr, Patrioth’s rider, leaned forward across the Council table, grimacing in fury. “The boy’s lying. If he’s managed to convince our dragons the hatchling has a name, then it’s some kind of trickery.”

“How?” Blair spoke bluntly. “I can’t speak to the other dragons, only to Meganth.”

“Your lover can speak to  _his_  dragon.” K’ncaid flashed a resentful glance at J’mellison. He’d already made known his suspicion that J’mellison was somehow to blame for all of this. There’d never been much love lost between the two of them. “Sweetheart could have told him the name, and he pass it to you.”

“Then have Patrioth ask Meganth. She’ll confirm it was a true Impression.” The effort of remaining outwardly reasonable was showing, to J’mellison at least. Blair’s voice was rough, and pitched lower than usual. He could smell the distress coming off Blair and it set all his protective instincts on edge. Blair’s gaze swept around the Council table. “All of you. Ask your dragons. They’ll tell you the truth.”

“He could have tricked the hatchling somehow,” K’ncaid objected. “Made her think she’d chosen him when she hadn’t.”

The stunning illogic of K’ncaid’s argument was blatantly obvious now; J’mellison could see that many of those present were having second thoughts. A murmur ran through the riders and dubious looks were cast in K’ncaid’s direction, but nobody spoke in support of Blair.

“You can’t have it both ways,” Blair hissed through clenched teeth. “Either I Impressed or I didn’t. If I didn’t, then how could I speak to Meganth? If I did speak to her… then you have no right to separate me from my dragon.”

The Council was becoming divided, with some now arguing in Blair’s favour. T’ggart rose to his feet, trying to calm K’ncaid, whose face had become alarmingly red. Several of Benden’s riders – those who knew Blair best – had fallen out of the discussion, their faces thoughtful. J’mellison kept silent with an effort. He knew that nothing he said would be listened to, since he’d been deemed to be biased in Blair’s favour. Silently, he appealed to Sweetheart to ask the other dragons for help.

 _All the dragons support Blair_ , came the puzzled response,  _why aren’t their riders listening to them, J’m?_

“Because they’re wherry-headed dimglows,” J’mellison muttered under his breath. So, appealing to the dragons was a dead end. He was starting to run out of ideas, and there was no real sign of consensus amongst the now bitterly divided Council. He went to stand beside Blair, catching hold of his lover’s arm in silent reminder to keep an outward appearance of calm at least.

 _I want Blair._  J’mellison flinched as the words exploded inside his head.  _I want Blair NOW!_

It was Meganth, he realised. Meganth was speaking to him and, judging by the way every rider at the table had startled, some raising their hands to their ears, she was speaking to every man or woman capable of hearing her. Even Laurinen and Rossan were shaking their heads dazedly.

J’mellison grinned. It was almost unheard of for a dragon to address anyone other than its rider, but it wasn’t impossible. Still, he’d never heard of one broadcasting its thoughts to everyone within range.

In the sudden silence that fell, every dragon rider assumed that blank expression that meant they were in communication with their dragon. Finally, they might actually listen.

After a brief pause, T’gessian glanced around the assembly of dragon riders, receiving assenting nods, many of them grudging, from the other riders. “Well… it appears that the Impression was a true one. Bl... that is, B’air… is Meganth’s rider.”

“Thank you, but I prefer to remain Blair.” Blair lifted his chin defiantly.

"Don't be ridiculous," typically, it was K'ncaid who spoke, full of bluster. "You're a dragon rider now, you'll take a dragon rider's name."

"I'm a Queen's rider." Blair smiled with no warmth at all. "Queens' riders don't shorten their names."

"Because they're  _women_." K'ncaid snorted disdainfully. A murmur ran through the Weyrwomen and several scowled at him, even his own Weyrwoman, Alexa.

T'gessian stood, and thumped the table with his fist, silencing the room. "This is an unprecedented situation. If Blair wants to retain his name as it was before, then there's no valid reason not to allow it."

"Thank you." J'mellison could feel Blair trembling with eagerness to be done with the discussion. "Now, if you'll excuse me..." He turned and headed for the door, with J'mellison at his heels.

***

Later, after Meganth had been fed, watered and washed – the feeding of a hatchling being a messy, not to mention stomach churning, process – J'mellison and Blair leaned back against Sweetheart's broad flanks, basking contentedly in the sunshine while Meganth slept soundly between Sweetheart's forelegs. After a while, J'mellison turned his head to inspect the newest, and most contentious, dragon rider of Benden Weyr. They'd both discarded their shirts – which had been soaked – and their liberally splashed leathers were slowly drying. Blair was, to J'mellison's admittedly biased eyes, looking particularly appealing. He’d loosened his hair from its tie and his skin gleamed with sweat, nut-brown nipples peaking amongst the generous sprinkling of chest hair.

He observed the heavy bulge developing in Blair's leather pants and concluded that an approach from him would be far from unwelcome. In fact, he reasoned, if he  _didn't_  make a move soon, he could be in serious trouble with his lover. J'mellison turned onto his side, reaching across Blair to gently tweak a nipple, following it with a nuzzling kiss against the slightly bristly skin of Blair' throat. The response was a sigh and a slight arching of Blair's back, pressing against his teasing fingers. J'mellison chuckled softly and slid his hand down Blair's side.

"J'm." Blair smiled lazily, his face still upturned to the sun. But when J'mellison moved his hand to the lacing at the front of Blair's leathers, his lover tensed a little and covered J'mellison's hand with his own. "Um... should we do this... you know, in front of..." He gestured vaguely in Meganth's direction. "She's just a baby."

J'mellison laughed. "She won't mind. Dragons aren't like human children."

 _Meganth says she'll only allow me to fly her_. Sweetheart's voice sounded distinctly smug. J'mellison thought that probably that was something he might tell Blair another day. It seemed there were some things the harper still didn't know about dragons.

Blair peered at him dubiously, his eyes squinting against the sun. "You're sure?"

"Absolutely." He tugged gently on the laces, pulling the knot free with the ease of long practice. "They're born knowing about these things." His fingers got nimble with the cross lacing, loosening it enough to slip his hand inside and palm the gently stirring cock. "Besides, she's sound asleep. Nothing short of an earthquake will wake her now."

"Oh, all right then." Blair arched his hips, pushing into his touch. "If you must."

With permission granted, J'mellison swung his leg over Blair's sprawled thighs and set to work on freeing his lover's cock from the increasingly tight confines of his pants. Swollen and heavy, he cradled the stirring cock in his hands and bent his head to suck gently, teasingly, at the sensitive cockhead.

Blair made a soft, broken sound, his hips twitching ineffectually against J'mellison's constraining hands. Taking another tack, he pushed J'mellison's head down and J'mellison took his cock deeper, sucking strongly as he slid back up the hardening shaft. Shards, he really loved to do this, mingling scent and taste and touch, and hearing Blair's soft groans of pleasure. But he had no intention of restricting his pleasure only to this. When Blair began to tremble, he backed off, straightening so he could lean in and plunge his tongue just as deeply into Blair's mouth.

The groans became muffled, and Blair reached for J'mellison's laces, fingers shaking as he loosened the leather ties and shoved his pants down off his hips. "Fuck, I  _want_  you."

"Yes!" The deep, desire roughened tone of his lover's voice sent a stab of lust through J'mellison's groin and he pulled away, hurriedly stripping off his pants and boots while Blair scrabbled amongst their belongings for the vial of oil they used to ease the itches of a dragon's sensitive hide. It had served them for other purposes often enough.

He dared a brief glance at Blair, on all fours, pants gaping open and cock lifting hard and wet-tipped against his belly, then had to look away, squeezing the base of his cock to keep himself from coming. He'd wanted this from the moment Blair had entered the Council Room in full rider's gear, looking like he’d walked out of J’mellison’s most secret fantasies.

By the time Blair had found the vial and poured some of its contents into his palm, J'mellison had thrown himself onto his back and was watching Blair through slitted eyes, his hand still firmly clutching his cock. "Come  _on_!"

"Impatient," Blair noted smugly. His eyes dropped to his own cock and he smoothed the oil over it, his fingers stroking slowly, sensually, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

J'mellison growled, low in his throat. "Fuck, Blair... don't..."

Blair's smile faltered and his stroking fingers hesitated, trembling. "J'm..."

" _Now_ , scorch it!" He pulled his legs up to his chest, exposing himself to Blair. "I need you  _now_ , Blair!"

" _Shells_..." Blair leaned over him, his hand sliding a greasy trail along J'mellison's thigh and behind his balls. He pushed his fingers slowly, carefully, into J'mellison's body.

"Yes... oh..." J'mellison arched his back, closing his eyes in ecstasy as Blair's knowledgeable touch sent shudders of pleasure through his body. "More, dammit. Give me more..."

There was only one thing that would be enough to satisfy, and Blair knew it as well as he did. After the bare minimum of preparations, he felt Blair's fingers withdraw, to be replaced by the substantial presence of Blair's cock filling him. He forced his eyes open, looking up into Blair's sensual, heavy-lidded gaze.

Blair smiled down at him and settled J'mellison's legs over his shoulders, leaning into his thighs, forcing him to curl his hips up, completely open and vulnerable. "Scorch it, J'm. The things you do to me..." His hips moved, twisting and thrusting, riding him deeper, harder than ever before. He reached between their bodies and took J'mellison's cock in his hand, jerking him roughly.

He wouldn’t last long, not the way Blair was pounding into him, sending fire up his spine and curling through his belly. J’mellison gasped, struggling to breathe under the onslaught. Above him, Blair’s face was wild with passion; his hair a fiery nimbus ignited by the sun’s brilliance.  _Shards_ …

Dimly, he heard Blair’s guttural cry, and felt the fierce pulse of his lover’s cock inside him, sending a fresh wave of heat through him.

The world around him faded completely for a moment, and when it returned Blair was slumped on top of him, smothering J’mellison with his heat and weight. He made a weak, protesting sound and Blair stirred reluctantly.

“Give me a minute, J’m.” Blair’s voice was slurred with exhaustion. It reminded J’mellison that Blair hadn’t slept since they’d risen early yesterday morning for the Hatching. Neither had he, for that matter.

After a moment, Blair pushed himself up on shaky arms, blinking tiredly. “You want me to get off you?”

Their bodies were still joined, and there was no way J’mellison wanted that to end before it had to. He slid his hands over Blair’s hips, his ass, pushing the leather pants further down his thighs. “No hurry,” he murmured lazily, satisfied now that he could breathe.

Blair grinned and bent down to kiss him. At some point during that long, leisurely kiss, Blair’s cock slipped free of him, and when it finally ended Blair rolled off and lay sprawled on his back beside J’mellison. His pants were halfway down his thighs and his belly and chest were liberally covered with sticky spatterings of J’mellison’s come.

The sight was enough to make J’mellison’s cock twitch sluggishly, and he exchanged a smug grin with his lover. Give him ten minutes…

Okay, maybe twenty.  


End file.
